


Cheaters

by GypsySisters



Category: The OA (TV)
Genre: Cheating, F/M, HOAp, Hurt/Comfort, Lima Syndrome, Older Man/Younger Woman, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 18:00:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19025086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GypsySisters/pseuds/GypsySisters
Summary: Prairie is distraught over Homer’s infidelity, and Hap offers her a moment to escape with him upstairs. (Timeline: Part 1, after Cuba, before Scott’s death and resurrection.)





	1. What do you want?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ScarletteStar1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteStar1/gifts).



“Get up.”

Hap was standing at the threshold of Prairie’s opened cell, glancing at her worriedly, trying not to betray how deeply he was concerned for her as she remained inert on her cot, curled up in her sweater, soft as a cloud, back turned against the world.

“Aw leave her ‘lone, Hap. Ain’t you done enough?” The slow drawl escaped from Scott Brown’s cell.

“I would be careful how you challenge me, Scott,” Dr. Hap adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses and glared through the walls of Prairie’s cage,  up at his captive, nostrils flaring. His jaw clenched as he buckled under the inescapable pressure of being denied his deepest desire. “I could give Miss Johnson a reprieve, and take you, instead.”

“No… no…” Scott scrambled away, cowering, his dreads swishing wildly about his shoulders. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Why don’t you take me,” Renata challenged, indignant and unafraid.

Homer looked up from where he’d been kneeling, prostrate before _her_ cage. “No,” he shook his head, “take me. Take me. _Take me!_ ”

“Why should anyone take you anywhere, you fool,” Renata snapped. “ _You_ are the reason I am _here_ ! You _imbecile_!”

“Please… you guys… fighting doesn’t help…” Rachel pleaded, fingers pressed against her temples.

Homer shook his head and buried it in his hands, murmuring, “I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Meanwhile, Hap grew irritated with his subjects’ outbursts, but even more irritated with Prairie’s refusal to acknowledge his request. This entire time she was still as the dead, unreceptive to her world.

Very well, then. If she was going to be difficult, he would leave her to suffer these fools alone. He turned, stepped out of the cell, but when he pivoted to shut her cage door, she’d sat up, her face stitched with indecision, her mouth open and breathing, heavy with emotion.

“Get up.” He commanded, terrified that she’d refuse him, masking his fear in a veneer of control. Flabbergasted, he watched as she obeyed.

“Come on,” he barked. “I don’t have all day.”

She made her way clumsily towards him, feeling for the edge of her cage wall as if she hadn’t done so thousands of times before.

“Don’t do it, Prairie! Don’t go!” Homer pleased with her, the boldness of the fool astonishing Hap even now.

To her credit, Prairie caught herself as if she were about to glare at him, and locked her face dead ahead, her mouth a line of resolute apathy.

Hap sneered. He considered saying something to rub it in Homer’s face, but the sweet thing about being the victor is you don’t have the gloat. You’ve already won.

A smug smile on his face, Hap reached tenderly for Prairie’s elbow, the softness of her sweater making his mouth dry, and guided her the rest of the way towards the stairs and out of the limestone quarry, over sharp metallic steps, further up, bringing his angel into the light.

The door to the basement shut and locked, Hap behind her, Prairie allowed her eyes to lazily scan his kitchen. She hadn’t been up here since the day she tried to kill him, the day she tried to escape, and seeing the late afternoon tumble over the warm wood and scattered dishes gave her a sense of homeliness that warmed her soul.

Why had he brought her up now?

“I know what you must be thinking,” he chuckled, trying to make light of the situation. “‘How could he trust me again after I tried to kill him?’”

She turned so he could see her face, drawn into a careful mask of expressionlessness, one eyebrow flickering up. “How can you trust me?”

He stepped forward, delighted. “I don’t.”

Hap watched as the wave of that emotion coursed through her. This was dangerous, not just for him, but for her, as well.

“Why am I here?” She demanded, her heart in her throat. He was standing close enough that she could taste him on her breath.

What she did not expect was the vulnerability he allowed in his eyes, the eyes she was not supposed to be able to see, the eyes her gaze fluttered over, blankly, as her gaze flitted around the room. 

“I…” Hap cleared his throat. Suddenly uneasy, he wrung his hands then pulled out a couple chairs, urging her to sit down. She tried not to get distracted at the way his body moved under the simple yet elegant cut of his clothes.

“Prairie… I know how difficult this must be for you… how it must feel to learn that someone you care about… to hear… I mean…”

“To be cheated on,” she supplied, her jaw tight, the reality of the words suddenly causing her to blink back invisible tears. “By Homer.”

“Yes,” Hap sighed, tortured by her pain.

“It’s nothing,” she lied and turned her face away.

“Prairie,” he reached out and took her delicate hands in his. “As much as I hate to admit it, you loved him. You loved Homer. And he cheated on you.”

“No!” she screamed, suddenly, shocking him. She pulled her hands from his grip and started hitting him, towering over him, fists balled up against his chest. “No! It wasn’t Homer! It wasn’t his fault!”

“Prairie!” Hap startled at her challenge, standing as she railed into him, accepting the onslaught of feeling and fury.

“It was you! You made him do it! You forced them on each other! He would never… he would never… no… never…”

As she yelled at Hap and flung her fury at him, he took it all, took each accusation, accepted each blow, trying to grab her arms, to steady her, to reign her in.

“No!” She sobbed, but she wasn’t resisting him. “No!” She cried, as he pulled her nearer, enveloping her in his tight embrace. “No!” She whimpered as tears ran down her cheeks and stained the chest of his shirt.

“He would have never… he’d never…  if you hadn’t… you are at fault.”

She cried as he held her, shushing her, his face pressed into her angelic hair, rocking her back and forth.

“It’s ok, Prairie.”

“How can you say that?” She grew indignant with a flash of anger, shoving him away. She wiped her cheeks with the heels of her palms, trying to regain some sense of composure. “How could you possibly think it’s ‘ok’?”

Hap smiled sadly.

_Because we have each other._

That’s what he wanted to say.

_Because we have the research._

That was the easy lie he’d kept telling himself.

But neither answer would suffice in this moment, so he opted for silence.

He reached out, touched her arm, waiting to reassure himself she wasn’t going to flinch and turn away. That act of tenderness caught her off guard and she felt the armor around her heart threaten to fall away.

“What am I doing here, Hap?” She asked defensively. Did he want her to clean? To cook? What was the purpose of this excursion?

“You can do… anything you like.” He looked at her hopefully, his fingers at her elbow, wanting with all his being for her to return to him, to allow him to soothe her with another embrace.

“Anything?” She challenged, disbelieving his offer.

What would she choose? She could ask for anything… a phone call home… a meal… a walk in the sun… her freedom.

What did Prairie want? He gulped, afraid of her every unknown.

“Anything,” he vowed.

But he knew, no matter what she wanted, he’d never let her go.


	2. Send NDEs

“I want you to die.”

As the words left her mouth, Prairie felt the chilling consequence of their honesty. Her nostrils flared slightly, noting the salty aroma of his sweat, the inescapable allure of his musk, the dangerous hints of anaesthetics and hot steel.

A girl could get lost in the fire of a man like that.

Hap’s tentative fingers withdrew from her sleeve, the sound of her voice striking him at first as one in a long line of rejections. But as he regarded her, a concentration stitching together his brow, he realized there had been no malice in her request.

He took off his glasses, rubbed the lenses on his shirt, his tanned abdomen supposedly invisible to her unseeing eyes that darted haphazardly down from his chest. She was nervous. Her request made her nervous.

He laughed huskily as he adjusted his glasses back on the bridge of his nose.  _ No. She couldn’t possibly mean… _

“You want me to die for the research,” he clarified, his eyes darting rapidly over her soft features, noting her every vulnerability. “You want me to have an NDE.”

Her mouth was closed lightly, two perfect lips pressed together like a promise. She nodded silently, twice, on the edge of an abyss of endless feeling.

“Yes!” He grasped her upper arms, a wave of feeling thrumming through him as pain mixed with arousal. “Yes. Of course I want to, Prairie. But it is impossible.”

Her face felt hot, as if she’d just been smacked. “Why?”

“Because there is no one trained in the equipment who could bring me back.”

“Use me,” she uttered, her voice so small. “Teach me.”

“Oh Prairie,” he smiled sadly, releasing her, suddenly feeling very old and very tired. “It’s not quite as simple as all that.”

“What? You don’t think I can handle it?”

“That’s not it,” his voice was soft but firm. “I believe you are capable of anything. It’s just…” his mind started spinning…

“You’re such a hypocrite!” She huffed, exacerbated at him. “You’re willing to kill us over and over, but when it comes to putting your own neck on the line, you’re a coward!”

“I  _ am _ a coward!” He boomed, infuriated at her impudence. “I’m afraid of what would happen to you.”

“You don’t care about me,” she spat the words and turned away, feeling for the kitchen counter.

“How can you believe that? How can you even  _ say _ that?” Hap bounded over, spinning her around at the sink, his grip pressed momentarily against her slender shoulders, forcing her to face him. “Did it ever occur to you what would happen to you… to all of you… if something were to happen to me?”

She blinked, processing his words as his hands reluctantly fell away. The clouds shifted in the sky and sunlight poured into the room. 

“There is never a high revival rate with patients,” he started to explain, grasping into facts to calm his adrenaline when what he wanted to grasp onto was quivering before him with a halo of impossibly glowing hair. “That is why I started working with NDE survivors. I grew tired of the turnover rate, tired of seeing so much unnecessary loss. It’s true: there are still losses with NDE survivors, and August is a testament to that, but what better way is there to honor the sacrifices made by others than to do our best moving forward to learn from those mistakes instead of repeating them.”

“I learned how to tailor the nutritional demands on the body, how to gauge the length of an NDE, how to give the body enough time to heal between sessions...I did all this to avoid unnecessary losses, to keep the revival rate as high as possible.” As he rambled on, his hands became expressive, and his heart opened up to her. “Yes: I would do anything for the research, Prairie, but can’t you see that what I’ve learned prevents me, logically,  from experiencing the thrill of death myself? All it takes is one death for me to die and not be able to return, and the research is a loss.”

Prairie sighed and leaned against the counter, defeated. Water that has splattered from the sink dampened the butt of her skirt, but she did not move away. Of course his offer had been disingenuous. It was foolish of her to think he’d give her anything she wanted.

“Do you have any chores?” Resigned to disappointment, she tried to settle back into the role of a housekeeper that he’d established for her. 

He sensed her withdrawing. “Prairie, stop…”

“Are you hungry? Do you want a meal?” She winced, trying to keep her emotions in check as he stepped closer to her, running his hands up her arms, barely exerting pressure against her threadbare clothes.

“Don’t,” his voice rumbled, irritated, demanding. He couldn’t lose her now, not after he’d made so much headway with getting her to dream with him for a moment of everything their partnership could bring.

“I… I could…”

“Shh,” he leaned in, his impossible warmth radiating out to her frightened shell, exuding trust and protection as his mouth found its way to her ear.

She bit her lip, her chest rising and falling rapidly as he second-guessed his resolve, loosening his grip on her, tempted to walk away. But then he closed his eyes and listened to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, which led him to bury her in a hug, arms wrapped around her shoulders, his face pressed up against her thrumming pulse.

She wasn’t sure what surprised her more: the embrace, or the words she felt him muttering against the skin of her exposed neck.

“Ok, Prairie. You can lead me to my death.”

 


End file.
